Catching my balance.

October 2007

31 October 2007

Yes, my people my people, it is that time of year again: NANOWRIMO Time!

I am signed up and planning to make a stab at it again, though it is looking like I'm going to have an outrageously busy November, so I am very doubtful that I'll "win" again. But, you know, I enjoyed doing it last year... apparently I need an outside instigator yelling deadline!deadline!deadline! to get me to write.

29 October 2007

Well, you know, when you see a link in a blog for something that is going to tell you what you were in a past life, I mean, how do you pass this up? It's like not reading the fortune in the cookie. It's not like when your fortune says "You will make a name for yourself" you immediately quit your job and run off to Hollywood... but you still read the fortune.

So what was I in a previous life (according to someone's algorithm)?

I don't know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last
earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern
North Australia around the year 1275.
Your profession was that of a preacher, publisher or writer of ancient
inscriptions.

Your brief psychological profile in your past life:Timid,
constrained, quiet person. You had creative talents, which waited until
this life to be liberated. Sometimes your environment considered you
strange.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:Your
main lesson is to develop magnanimity and a feeling of brotherhood. Try
to become less adhered to material property and learn to take only as
much, as you can give back.

Timid and quiet. Well, I seem to have gotten over that. Never really fancied myself an Aussie, I suppose, but judging from the date I don't suppose I'd have been a surfer with a thing for Fosters. And... wait a second... I was an Aborginal publisher? Doesn't that seem a bit... outlandish? And one does have to ask what, exactly, I've been doing in the intervening 700 or so years.... All right, the rule of fortune cookies says that you can't analyze too much, as it kills the fun, so I'm stopping now....

26 October 2007

So, a while ago I posted about a day when my evening commute was just. plain.hellish. In the standing-on-an-overpacked-platform-for-ever-only-to-encounter-more-breakdowns kind of way. There was an even worse set of delays at the end of August. Now, mind you, I could write a post every day whingeing about the less-than-stellar service (every single day, without fail, at rush hour there are residual delays on one of the lines from a broken down train that has been cleared. Every day. Without fail.) I thought a lot about posting a rant when it was announced the metro would likely put in place a fare hike to deal with their budget shortfall. I kind of put it off for a while, though I thought Catoe must be smoking something to suggest a 29% rate increase fast on the heels of major organizational disasters just the month before. I thought about it again when the WaPo had an article about how metro wastes $4 million in electricity every year-- something that could help with closing their budget gap if they'd shut off the damn lights. So now that weeks and weeks and weeks have passed Catoe has announced that metro is going to respond to these problems by clarifying their announcements, and making their employees do their best to grasp that they should announce things in the first place.

Metro General Manager John B. Catoe Jr. has promised to fix
communications, adding his name to a list of agency chiefs who have
vowed, unsuccessfully, to cure one of the agency's largest and deepest
ailments. At a board meeting last week, managers outlined a new take on
the long-standing problem. Success, they said, will not be achieved by
simply making station announcements comprehensible; it will require a
complete culture change, from top managers to all 8,200 bus and rail
operations employees.

Hunh. Well that's just fascinating. I certainly don't disagree that the announcement system in Metro sucks. And I also do not disagree that metro workers are often rather opaque in their responses (but, honestly, no less helpful than anywhere else. They just don't usually seem to have the answers). Now, I wouldn't be horrified or anything if I could understand the messages that come over the speaker (though I'm not sure that the Death Start design of the metro stations is conducive to better acoustics), but, really, you know what would make me really happy? Consistent service..

I've lived in two cities that have much, much, much older subway systems: Boston and New York. Like three, almost four times as old. I spent many months in Paris and took the metro every day. And the number of times that there are announcements or messages on the electronic boards that there are delays on one like or another in one week tops the number that I saw in six months in these other places-- all of which have more comprehensive systems with more trains (if you include the several trolley branches on the Green line of the T). So what gives? Everyone is always whingeing that the traffic in the D.C. metro area is awful (apparently second only to L.A.). This may have something to do with the fact that taking the metro in from the suburbs takes FOREVER, isn't that cheap (especially when you add parking), and is usually undergoing something jacked up that has everything delayed. For example, last Thursday coming home there were residual delays on the yellow line due to a train malfunction; on Friday morning there were residual delays on the red line due to a train malfunction; all weekend long there is track maintenance that is delaying everything by upwards of thirty minutes on the orange line; and Monday morning there were residual delays on the green line due to a train malfunction on my way to the gym; when I got out of the gym the green line was cleared up, but there were residual delays on the red line from a train malfunction that happened while I was on the elliptical machine.

Seeing a pattern? This in addition to the fact that the normal running has trains coming every 20-30 minutes on weekends and 30 + minutes after 11pm. And there is talk of cutting back the extended weekend hours (much better to have the drunken Marylanders and and Virginians driving home from Adams Morgan?). Now, what exactly is this fare hike for?

Meanwhile, DCist has a story on the new fare hikes.... which, you know, would be maybe a little easier to swallow if the article hadn't ended with a listing of all the trackwork/service problems to expect this weekend-- i.e. every line but one. (And if it hadn't taken me almost two hours to get to work yesterday because of a jacked up door on the packed train I was riding).

Weekend Track Work to Affect Red, Blue, Green and Orange Lines:
Track maintenance and rail car testing on the Red, Blue, Orange and
Green lines this weekend (October 26-28) will cause inbound and
outbound trains to take turns sharing one track from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.,
Saturday, October 27, and from 9 a.m., to 7 p.m., Sunday, October 28.

Yes! They are very cute, are they not? I found them on sale two years ago at a Western wear store when I was in Reno for a wedding. They were the last pair, and I lucked out with my small tootsies, which are a 6-6 1/2. It is good to know that I share a sense of style with a fashion icon, no?

18 October 2007

So, I used to have Comcast internet service when I was in the District, and I HATED them. It was THE WORST SERVICE EVER. Seriously. I've wasted hours, DAYS, in the black hole of Comcast Death. I am not alone:

This was the company that has had consumer service problems serious enough to prompt the trade magazine Advertising Age
to editorialize that Comcast and other cable providers should spend
less on advertising and more on customer service. And has spawned a
blog called ComcastMustDie.com that's filled with posts from angry
customers.

Uhm-hum. There is no such thing, as far as I can tell, as a satisfied Comcast customer. So how do I feel about Mona Shaw? She's, obviously, my hero.

In other news, I am very happy to report that D.C. has finally decided to do something logical: metered rides! Wheeee! I might finally take a taxi in this town once they get those babies installed. All this griping about how the cabbies will lose money. And yet, I did EVERYTHING to avoid taking a taxi because of the stupid zone system, and I was not alone in my allergy to zone driving cabs.

16 October 2007

I walked from the gym to work this morning, as I needed to pop by the organic market on the way in. When I was coming up to Thomas Circle I heard a beep, screen, and a crash-- an SUV and a BMW had gone toe to toe. I didn't see the back of the SUV, but based on the front bumper of the cherry red beemer I'm guessing SUV came out on top.

Coming around the corner I was passing that church on the circle where all the homeless folk hang out. I stepped out into fourteenth to cross the street right in front of a homeless dude hanging on the stoop, smoking, and coughing the cough of deep illness. He yelled out, "HEY THERE, MY SISTAH!"

Now, I must admit, in general my assumption when someone African American yells sistah in my general direction is that there is an African American woman likely standing behind me out of my view. But, no, this morning was, in fact, not the case.

"HEY, MY WHITE SISTAH! COUSIN YOU MAY BE WHITE BUT YOU IS STILL MY SISTAH! WE ALL GO BACK TO ADAM AND EVE IN THE GARDEN MY SISTAH! YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE IT BUT WE IS ALL AFRICANS! EVEN YOU!"

14 October 2007

At my gym there are a bazillion televisions-- a line of them above the treadmills and then individual ones on about 85% of the cardio machines. I don't watch TV, so this is both a disturbing and fascinating thing.

Luckily, they only have the sound up on the gym's own video streaming channel, which is mostly fine-- in general it's reasonably mainstream stuff, with the occasional hipster addition (they play a few Strokes and Killers videos, which I suppose is pretty mainstream anyway, just a change up from the Britney-Beyonce-String of high school aged girls doing bad dance moves). It's usually playing low enough that I can block out the Pussycat Dolls or whatever and focus on The New Yorker, which is my gym reading. Every now and again, though, they'll play some older stuff. Mostly this amounts to seeing John Fogerty live, feeling a bad moon rising, or Bruce Springsteen (also live), entreating Wendy to wrap her legs 'round his velvet rims and strap her hands 'cross his engines. The other morning, though, they suddenly sent me straight to middle school-- not a pleasant place, though this was counterbalanced by the fact that I loved loved loved the Go-Gos and (I seriously remember feeling this way) totally empowered by seeing an all-girl band where they actually wrote songs and played instruments.

The Go Gos - Our Lips Are Sealed

I wanted to be Jane Wiedlin so so so bad. She's so awesome! She's totally hot and plays the guitar and wore vintage clothing and was a rock star! I started wanting to be Jane Wiedlin in 1982, which is when I first heard the Go-Gos-- I was in the sixth grade and wanted to be one of the following when I grew up: 1) President (I got over this by the end of the school year. I did, at eleven, have a plan, though. First, I would become a lawyer, because that seemed to be the best path. Then I would become a senator. Then I would be the president. Then I would befriend the Russians, end the Cold War, and thereby eliminate the possibility of nuclear winter, about which I spent an inordinate amount of time being concerned.), 2) a writer (my mom gave me a ginormous Remington typewriter that, if dropped from any height at all, could easily have crushed the skull of a woolly mammoth); 3) a rock star. I took guitar lessons. I was deeply disturbed that I did not pick up the guitar and immediately begin playing perfect riffs (I worried that in order to have it sound like anything I needed to practice did not bode well for my rock star future). The next year my friends and I spent a lot of time contemplating what the name of our nascent, all girl rock band should be called. My friend Abby (who is actually very musically talented, and went on to be in real bands) and I spent hours writing and recording on my crappy tape player songs that involved both of us singing in purposefully nearly discordant harmonies (we liked the plaintive, sad sound of it, and it also matched the yearning lyrics of the type written by eleven and twelve year olds) while she played out rhythmic back up on a ukulele. (Seriously. I couldn't make this up. The ukulele belonged to her brother, who was using in his own solo recordings. He later did become a certifiable rock star. No shit.)

Even though later I started listening to punk, and then hardcore, and the Go-Gos were considered really passe and wimpy, I still had a soft spot for them, and continued to wish I were Jane Wiedlin, even as I was shaving all my hair off and stomping around in big ole Doc Martins. Really, part of me still wants to be Jane Wiedlin. Seriously-- wouldn't you want to be one of the chicks who brought us "We've Got the Beat"? "Vacation (All I Ever Wanted)"? C'mon! I've never been much for SoCal-- even as a kid, I was always a bit freaked out by the weird world that the Brady Bunch inhabited. Also, there was a girl whose dad lived in the HUGE Victorian at the end of the street-- the one with the turrets and the fish scales on the outside, painted in all sorts of pastels, and the huge yard. Sometimes we'd cut through their yard to get to Abby's. He was a producer in Hollywood, and his daughter still lived there with her mother, while he lived on our street with his current wife and child. Anyhoo, older daughter, who was a year or two older than me, would come in the summer. And I liked her, I thought she was cool.... in fact, I thought she was too cool-- she seemed so knowing and jaded, and I was intimidated, always worrying that she'd think I was a provincial dork. When we were a little older she came and spent the summer driving around in an old boat of a convertible with fins, like the one in the video, only I think it was sparkly olive. I was in awe, just kind of scared of her. I also totally can't remember her name. In any case, as a kid I associated SoCal with all sorts of frighteningly exotic things and the vague sense that I was somehow not in the know. When I got older I no longer worried about being seen as a provincial dork (I lived and and thrived in New York for nearly a decade and had traveled the world-- how could I be provincial?) I went out to L.A. for the first time (well, the first time out of LAX-- I'd buzzed through a couple of times on my way to/from Asia) and realized it was exotic and strange and just not my scene. I was disturbed by the relationships that people had with their cars (several seemed to have more fulfilling relationships with their vehicles than with their spouses), among other things.... the point being that I've never ever wanted to live in L.A., even when I was in the film industry (I was perfectly happy with the idea of a New York film career). Watching this video is the only time I can think of where I've thought that the idea of living there seemed downright appealing....

12 October 2007

There is an opening tonight over at DCAC of Manon Cleary's lovely cloud paintings. So you should head out there! You'll get to see some great art by a maven of the Washington art world, and get to see some awesome folk down there as well. Not to mention that my dear friend Lea Bigelow, who is whip smart, has a fabulous eye, and both sharp and enjoyable insight, has curated the show. Make sure you read her essay!

So get down there! Goes from 7 to 9 pm, 2438 18th Street, NW, second floor, up in Adams Morgan.

08 October 2007

Dat's right, peoples, we are o-fficially hitched. About which I am delighted. I would show my delight in a picture, but, alas, I have now realized that when you are your own wedding photographer the pictures you never get are the ones of the bride and groom.... Of course, many friends were there with cameras (thanks Anita, Chris, John, John, Eric, Amber, Do, Brett, and anyone and everyone else who had one!), and there are pictures of us on Flickr (I'd love a disc of the photos everyone got!). I do have some pictures of other people frolicking in the backyard among the fairy lights..... And extra thanks to my parents, my brother, my aunt and uncle, and family friends Ed and Anne, without whose springing into action the entire thing would not have been possible. And thanks to Pat for a great job as Reverend, to Rebecca and Eric for coming in early and brining that coffee urn, and a big thanks to everyone who came to share the day with us!!